


Camp Crush

by bluesuedeshoes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesuedeshoes/pseuds/bluesuedeshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity are both working as counselors for a summer camp in their teen years.  Felicity is struggling not to crush too hard on the camp heart-throb, Oliver Queen, but meanwhile, Oliver is working overtime to get Felicity to notice him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Archery Coach

**Author's Note:**

> Based on another tumblr prompt for a Teen AU with Olicity as camp counselors—I'm putting this on AO3 as it's own entity because I'm hoping to return to it and write some more vignettes from this universe at a later date.

“I like archery day,” five-year-old Erica confided in Felicity’s ear that morning, her chubby little arms wrapped around Felicity’s neck while Felicity carried her across the lawn.  Felicity’s group was comprised mostly of 10-12 year-olds, but Erica had been crying unceasingly for the first three days after her parents had dropped her off at camp a couple of weeks ago.  For whatever reason, Felicity had been the only one who had been able to get her to stop, so every day, Felicity came and picked Erica up to join her group for the morning, and then brought her back in time to join the younger groups, which started their camp activities a little later in the day.  It kept the wide-eyed brunette girl happy during the day and she was slowly adjusting and gaining a little more independence and warming up to her own counselor, Tommy.

 _Me, too,_ Felicity silently agreed, spotting a familiar blonde head of hair on the archery course.  “Oh?” she asked Erica.  “Why’s that?”

“I like _Ollie_ ,” Erica explained quietly, her little face turning bright pink. 

Felicity grinned.  Erica had a crush.  Cute.  The sound of an arrow whistling through the air reached their ears and she looked over again to see that the archery coach, Oliver Queen, had just embedded an arrow directly in the center of a target several yards away.  He’d obviously been out here for a while, Felicity noted, her mouth going a little dry as she observed the thin sheen of sweat on Oliver’s brow and his damp white T-shirt, which was clinging to his very well-defined body.

Erica wasn’t the only one with a crush.

But Oliver was 18 to Felicity’s 16, and he was about as unattainable as a movie star in a magazine.  He was a flirt, too, which made it that much harder not to have a crush on him, even though logically, she really knew better.  It was how he acted around all the girls.  She was fairly sure he had never looked twice at her.  And anyway, what did she want with an arrogant fop like Oliver Queen?  She kept telling herself to steer clear, but he was hard to resist.  His antics were charming, even if they were moronic.  He was always teasing her: sending a couple of little boys with squirt guns to spray her on lake day, sneaking up behind her and scaring her during ghost stories by the campfire…the usual ‘pigtail-pulling’ that both flattered and annoyed her.

She self-consciously smoothed her ponytail unnecessarily, and Erica grinned, reaching out to straighten Felicity’s slightly crooked glasses.  “Thank you,” Felicity mouthed and Erica giggled.  Erica liked Felicity’s bubble-gum pink lipstick and brightly colored fingernails, which changed every day (today’s selection was neon pink, which stood out sharply against her bright blue Camp Counselor T-shirt).  Her wrists were covered with about three inches worth of macrame friendship bracelets on either side, all of which had been given to her by campers, several of which were a little bit in love with her, though Felicity didn’t know that part.

“Hi, Coach Ollie!” one of Felicity’s boys, Kyle, shouted, and Oliver finally looked up, smiling broadly when he spotted Felicity and her group.  He raised an arm to wave.

“Hi, Oliver,” Felicity said shyly.  _Ugh, get a grip,_ she told herself inwardly.

“Hey, Felicity.  Erica,” Oliver greeted, coming over to them and bumping noses with Erica, who giggled delightedly, burying her face in Felicity’s shoulder to hide her smile.  The gesture also, unfortunately, brought Oliver’s face very close to Felicity’s, and she thought she caught the scent of a seductive aftershave mingled with the smell of freshly cut grass and sweat.  She swallowed hard as he winked at her, his face still much too close. 

“How’re my two favorite ladies?”

“Good,” they chimed together.  _Breathe.  Breathe.  For the love of God, attempt to inhale and exhale, Felicity,_ she instructed herself to no avail.  
Oliver grinned before pulling back.  “All right, guys,” he said more loudly, turning to face the group and going into his usual spiel, asking everyone to raise their hands and remind him of the safety rules, which they were able to do tolerably well.

Felicity helped everyone get their equipment sorted out, then sat down in the grass off to the side while the kids lined up, Erica staying in her lap. 

She watched while Oliver patrolled the groups, correcting grips and stances occasionally, commending them when he saw improvement.  She sighed.  He was just flat-out dreamy.  It made her insides squirm just looking at him.  

Seeing that everyone was behaving, she started putting Erica’s hair into a French braid, the affectionate interaction combined with the mechanical work of her fingers successfully calming her heart rate and cooling the blush in her cheeks.

“Think you can do that to my hair?”

Never mind.

Beet red again, Felicity looked up to see Oliver standing over her, and Erica giggled at his silly statement.  “What?” he asked the little girl innocently.  “Can’t she?”

“It’s too _short!”_ Erica exclaimed.

“Too short?  What?  I don’t think so!  What do you think, Felicity?”

Unable to stifle her amused smile, Felicity shook her head.  “I think she’s right, _Coach_ Oliver,” she said, subtly reminding him that he was supposed to be watching the kids.

But Oliver was not to be deterred.  “Aw, come on.  You better test it to be sure,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes, leaning over so that top of his head was right in front of Felicity.  Erica’s giggling was out of control.

Gulping and trying to keep her mouth shut so she didn’t reel off on one of her notorious babble-sessions, Felicity lifted a hand and very tentatively ran her fingers through Oliver’s short, soft hair, ever-so-slightly damp from the heat.

He tilted his head up, eyes meeting hers just a couple of inches away.  “What’s the verdict?”

Verdict?  What was he talking about?  Oh, right.  Hair.  “Definitely too short,” she breathed, and Oliver smirked, still not drawing back, looking at her like he knew exactly what he was doing.  Which, Felicity reminded herself, he probably did.

“You’re so silly,” Erica interrupted them, utterly charmed.  Yes, Oliver officially had this effect on all women.  None of them was safe.

 _“I’m_ silly?” Oliver repeated incredulously, pretending to be wounded.  _“You’re_ silly!”  He reached out and tickled Erica, who squealed and tried to wriggle away, gasping for breath until he released her seconds later to go check on the campers’ progress.

Felicity felt herself breathe again.

Oliver tugged at his shirt as he walked away, trying to tempt some cooler air against his skin.  It was hot out, and he was feeling it.  Meanwhile, his scalp still tingled from where Felicity’s fingers had blazed a trail through his hair.

He swallowed a light curse and resisted an urge to glance over his shoulder at her.  Even at 18, Oliver understood that Felicity Smoak was special.  There was just something about her.  He could never quite be sure that she actually liked him.  Sure, she got flustered around him, and would start talking at 80 miles an hour, which was by far his favorite thing about her.

But it was hard to be sure whether that really meant she liked him.  She thought he was attractive, but that wasn’t quite the same thing.  Oliver frowned.  He wasn’t used to worrying about the difference.  What _was_ the difference?

He paused to help a girl adjust her aim and wondered if he should be adjusting his own.


	2. The Macrame Bracelets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oliver and Tommy inform Felicity of the real reason she has so many bracelets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to darklou91 whose comment on the first segment helped to inspire this.

“Hey, Tommy,” Felicity greeted cheerfully one afternoon a few weeks into summer.  “Hi pretty lady,” she added, giving Erica’s hair a tousle.

“I am rather pretty, aren’t I?” Tommy joked, giving Felicity a wink and causing Erica to giggle.  She was finally warming up to Tommy, much to everyone’s relief, but that didn’t stop her from having a special relationship with Felicity.

“What are you guys up to?” Felicity asked, straddling the end of the bench at their outdoor table.

“Just taking a break to hydrate.  Want some OJ?”

“Sure,” she grinned, and Tommy tossed her a carton from the cooler by his feet.  She caught it with a flash of aqua nails and a smile.

“Where’s your group?”

“With Sara for field games.  And I,” she emphasized, "am on a much needed break.”  She propped her chin in her hands and looked at him.  “And I’m booooooored.”

Tommy chuckled, catching sight of something a little ways behind Felicity.  He smirked.  She wouldn’t be bored much longer.  “Well, I live to amuse, Smoak.  How’s life?”

She shrugged.  “Same old, I—”

 “If it isn’t my two favorite women,” a voice interrupted, and Tommy watched in amusement as Felicity’s entire body colored and she jumped slightly in surprise.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Oliver said, leaning over between Felicity and Erica and smacking the latter on the cheek sloppily.

Erica squirmed in delight, squealing.  She then looked at Oliver expectantly.  “Now Felicity,” she instructed, tone utterly charmed.

All too happy to oblige, Oliver turned toward Felicity, who was struggling to get her breathing under control.  “Can’t leave out Felicity,” he said mock-seriously, giving her a kiss on the cheek as well.  “Hi, gorgeous,” he added in a lower voice.

Felicity thought she was going to pass out.

 _Pull yourself together, Smoak,_ she reminded herself firmly.  _He’s a wolf, remember?_ “Hi, Oliver,” she managed to say with relatively believable calm.  She hoped.

He lifted his eyebrows once in smugness before sliding between her and Erica on the bench, successfully scooting them apart, his arm pressed right up against hers.  Felicity refused to pull away, knowing he was trying to get to her.  _He does this to all the girls.  He does this to all the girls.  He does this to every single freaking one of us,_ she chanted in her head.  Tommy watched the interaction with an expression of entertainment etched on his face.  “Hi, Ollie,” he deadpanned, reminding his best friend that he was, in fact, present as well.

“Hey, Tommy,” Oliver greeted, seeming to notice him for the first time.  “What’s up?”

Tommy shrugged.  “Ollie missed you at the bonfire last Friday,” Tommy informed Felicity, and Oliver shot him a dirty look that Felicity missed.

Still flushed and trying not to notice Oliver’s cologne, Felicity shrugged.  “I was pretty beat.  I decided to skip it and go to bed early.”

“You’re going tonight, though, right?” Oliver asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “I…probably.  Why?” she asked suspiciously.

Oliver just shrugged casually.  “Just curious.”

Tommy snorted.

“Hi, Felicity!” a breathless, younger voice joined them, and they all turned to see a couple of boys from the 8-10 group, both looking shifty and on the verge of laughter.

“We made these for you!” one of them, a boy named Devon, announced, holding out a friendship bracelet for Felicity and elbowing his friend.  At the reminder, the other boy held his up as well, albeit more shyly.

“Awww, thanks guys,” Felicity said, accepting their offering with exaggerated delight, making sure to fuss to show her appreciation.  “That’s so sweet!”

“We know you like them because you wear so many,” the second one, Brian, explained in a rush, his freckled facing going bright red.

Felicity beamed.  “You’re right.  I love them,” she gushed, leaning over to give first one, and then the other, a friendly hug.  “Thank you.  Now you guys better get back to wherever you’re supposed to be!” she instructed.

“Bye, Felicity!” Devon waved while his friend embarrassedly tugged them away, and they both finally turned to sprint away.

“Well that was cute,” Felicity said pleasantly, turning back to the rest of the table, only to find Tommy and Oliver raising their eyebrows at her.  “What?” she asked self-consciously.

“Yeah,” Tommy snorted.  _“Adorable.”_

Felicity rolled her eyes.  “Oh whatever, it was sweet and you know it.”  She fumbled with one of the bracelets as she attempted to tie it onto her own wrist.

“Here,” Oliver rolled his eyes, snatching up her arm and the bracelet to tie it for her.  She swallowed tightly.  His hands were so much larger than hers and coarse from archery, and they were _warm_.  Oliver eyed the long expanse of bracelets on both of her arms.  “One two thr—yep, this officially makes every boy at camp, Tommy,” he announced holding up Felicity’s arm for Tommy to examine after pretending to count.

“I do believe you’re right, Doctor Holmes!” Tommy exclaimed dramatically.

“Seriously, does _every_ kid here have a crush on you?” Oliver asked Felicity.

Felicity’s mouth opened to deny any such thing, but Erica beat her to it.  “Yup,” she said cheerfully before slurping the last of her juice box loudly.

“Don’t be silly,” Felicity said.  “They don’t have a crush on me.  Their counselor is a friend of mine.  She probably put them up to it.”

“Right.  And did she put them up to all the other ones?” Oliver asked humorously, taking the other bracelet to knot for her.

She eagerly awaited the moment he would release her arm, but he was taking his sweet precious time.  “I…no…they just…like me.”

“That’s what _we’re_ saying,” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh don’t be dirty,” Felicity rolled her eyes.  Oliver was still holding her arm, pretending to actually count the bracelets individually.

“Hey, I wasn’t being dirty,” Tommy threw his hands up in innocence.  “I just mean they all have crushes on you—”

“Every last single one,” Oliver interjected.

“—and it’s cute how you don’t notice it.”

“They do not.”

“Erica?” Oliver asked, and Erica perked up at being included.  “How many boys are in your group?” he asked.  Felicity stared at his hand, which was still holding onto her arm on the table.

“Six,” Erica informed him proudly after counting heads.

“Uh huh,” Oliver said, glancing around at the table.  “And how many do you think have a crush on Felicity?” he asked.

“All of them.”

“Oh, right, because that’s reliable,” Felicity sighed.

“Hey, everyone in Tommy’s group!” Oliver announced, and a dozen little heads looked up from their juice boxes and gummy snacks.  “Who here has a crush on Felicity?  Raise your hands!”

Exactly half a dozen chubby little hands flew into the air, as well as Oliver’s free one, while he looked at Felicity smugly.

She blushed furiously.  “Oh shut up,” she sighed.

Tommy sniggered in the background.  His best friend was _so_ far gone.


	3. The Stolen Marshmallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Felicity wishes Oliver would pick another target for his flirtations.

“Felicity, you made it!” Sara grinned, elbowing Tommy, who looked up, a grin spreading across his face at the sight of Felicity walking towards them through the woods.

Felicity smiled.  “I skip _one_ week.”

“Yeah, well, someone was asking about you,” Sara said cheekily.

“Every five seconds,” Tommy added under his breath for Sara’s benefit, and Sara chuckled, patting a spot beside her on a split log that served as a bench.

“Who?” Felicity asked, plopping down beside Sara.

 _“Ollie._ Who else?” Sara teased in a sing-song lilt.

Felicity rolled her eyes.  “Oh please.”

“Oh please nothing.  He’s so into you.”

“He’s into _all_ the girls.  Including you,” Felicity pointed out.

“True,” Sara admitted, a twinkle in her eyes nonetheless.  Because she knew what everyone but Felicity seemed to know: yes, Oliver Queen was a flirt, but in his eyes, Felicity was special.

“All right, who’s got the goods?” Felicity asked, looking around curiously as she casually changed the subject.

“That’d be me,” Tommy said jovially, producing several bags of marshmallows from his rucksack and passing one of them in Felicity’s direction, sending the rest around the campfire so everyone could grab a few.  Sara, meanwhile, snatched the bag from Tommy.

“What about the _important_ stuff?” she demanded, fishing in his bag and letting out an excited, “Aha!” when her hands closed around several king sized hershey bars, and she pulled them out, followed by some graham crackers.

“Save my seat, Sara.  That was what I said,” Oliver announced his presence with an accusing note in his voice.  “You had _one_ job.”

“Oliver!” Felicity burst.  “Sorry!  Were you sitting here?  I’ll just—”

“Sit, Felicity,” Oliver’s hand was already on her shoulder to stop Felicity from moving, sending a rush of heat through her, emulating from his touch.  He was giving her a laid back smile.  “I’m just giving Sara a hard time.  That for me?” he asked, plucking a marshmallow from her hand and popping it in his mouth, winking at her when she huffed in annoyance.

“Are we gonna get this fire going or what?” someone asked from across the pile of wood  waiting to be lit.

“Yeah, it’s starting to get dark,” someone else agreed.

“I’ll do the honors,” Tommy said pleasantly, grabbing his pocket knife and pulling a keychain of flint out of his pocket, heading toward the fire, where he started working with the kindling.

Oliver, instead of taking Tommy’s seat, took a seat in the dirt by Felicity’s feet, leaning back against the log easily, shoulder brushing against her leg.  She caught her breath.  She really wished he would find another target.

Oliver watched Tommy strategically pile tinder and eventually get a small flame burning, gradually feeding it until everyone’s face was glowing from the firelight.

It being teenagers after dark around a campfire, it was no surprise that, like most bonfire  nights, things gradually took a turn towards telling scary stories.

Sara was laughing good-naturedly, totally unaffected, but Felicity couldn’t help her over-active imagination getting the better of her, not to mention her nerves were shot because Oliver was _still_ leaning against her leg, hours later.  For a while he had been toying with the shoelaces on her sneakers, untying them, retying them, untying them again and then tying them together—until she smacked the back of his head in remonstration, and he retied them correctly one last time.  She could see the corner of his smirk even from her position behind him.

After that, he’d settled for wrapping his arm around her ankle, hand resting on his stomach, and settling in more comfortably, stretching out his legs and occasionally stealing marshmallows from her.

Why me, Felicity groaned internally.  _Is it literally because I’m the one girl here not openly swooning for you, Oliver?  Because that is the dumbest thing!  I’m not going to admit I like you just for you to do a little victory dance before you lose interest._

  She jumped nervously, hand shooting to Oliver’s shoulder for balance, when the boy telling the story suddenly yelled out loudly, imitating the monster in his narrative.  “Oh my God,” she muttered, rolling her eyes at herself and quickly retracting her grip from Oliver’s shoulder.  She expected him to tease her for getting scared, but instead he ran his hand over her shin reassuringly before giving her ankle a gentle squeeze.  Her heart fluttered.  It would be so much easier not to like him if he weren’t so…so… _Oliver Queen._

She could see Sara giving her the side-eye, smirking away like an insufferable know-it-all, but Felicity just bit back a frustrated sigh.  She was _not_ interested in being Oliver Queen’s flavor of the week.

But his soft caresses were slowly turning from reassuring to seductive, his fingers ghosting up the back of her calf to the crook of her knee, and her breath hitched in response.  Because okay, maybe being Oliver Queen’s flavor of the week would make for a really _great_ seven days.


	4. The Cold Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oliver is maybe just a little bit jealous and maybe just a little bit acting out because of it.

Lake mornings were when Oliver was at his worst.  
  
Or—if you asked him—his best.

It all depended on your perspective.  
  
Felicity was free from him on Tuesdays.  Tuesdays he coached archery for another group.  But on Thursdays he had that particular hour free, and he had quickly discovered that this was the time that Felicity and her kids were slotted for free time at the lake.  With Barry as the lifeguard.  
  
Oliver hated Barry.  
  
Felicity left the lake most Thursdays wanting to throttle Oliver.  If he wasn’t bribing eleven-year-olds to attack her with squirt guns, he was hiding her flip-flops under the dock with their help.  
  
“Hey, gorgeous,” Oliver winked at her one such Thursday, and Felicity stifled a sigh.  “You look like nice today.”  Which she did.  She was wearing [a yellow one-piece swimsuit](http://www.modcloth.com/shop/onepiece-swimwear/bathing-beauty-one-piece-swimsuit-in-yellow-gingham) that Oliver hadn’t seen her in before.  She looked like a sun goddess.  “New swimsuit?”  
  
She rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly, “Yeah.  Thanks,” she dismissed his compliment lightly.  
  
“Morning, guys!” Barry greeted, coming down the hill to join them on the dock, where Felicity’s kids were anxiously awaiting permission to get in the water.  “Sorry I’m late.  I forgot the life vests,” he explained, indicating the large plastic bin he was carrying, full of  bright orange life jackets.  “So I had to go back for them.”  He came to a stop at the end of the dock and set the bin down, letting the kids crowd around him to grab vests if they needed them.  “Same rules as always, guys—” he reminded them as they looked for their sizes.  “No holding each other under, no breath-holding contests…if you haven’t passed the swim test yet, you _have_ to wear a life vest.  Let me know if anyone wants to take the test.”  
  
The kids all said good morning to Barry with cheery enthusiasm, a few of them greeting him with high-fives and hugs and stories about their doings at camp and letters from home.  When they finally dispersed, Barry walked down the dock to join Felicity and Oliver and keep a better eye on the kids.  “Hi, Felicity,” he said warmly, looking as smitten as ever.  “Is that a new swimsuit?  It looks really nice on you.”  
  
“Thanks, Barry,” Felicity said genuinely, blushing a little bit at his words.  
  
“I literally just said that and you rolled your eyes at me,” Oliver pointed out.  
  
“Yeah, well, when you say it, it sounds like a pick-up line,” Felicity explained, leaving Oliver sputtering in protest while she turned back to Barry.  “I ordered it online and it just arrived in this morning’s mail.  My old one was getting really worn out from the sun.”  She smiled happily, nudging her glasses in place.  
  
A mischievous smirk stole across Oliver’s face.  “Brand new, huh?” he asked.  
  
Felicity looked at him nervously, backing away.  “Oh no…not today, Oliver.  It rained all night.  That water is freezing.”  
  
He just grinned more broadly.  “Sounds like the perfect way to break in a new suit.”  
  
“Don’t you dare, Oliver,” Felicity warned, stepping behind Barry and grabbing his shoulders to use him as a shield.  “Barry, don’t let him.”  
  
“Um…Oliver?” Barry gulped feebly, backing up the dock with Felicity, attempting to protect her as Oliver prowled closer, completely ignoring him.  
  
In a sudden movement, Oliver made to dodge behind Barry, and Felicity squealed, running in circles around poor Barry as Oliver chased her, catching her within moments and  throwing her, kicking and shrieking, over his shoulder as he carried her right up to the edge of the pier—much to the amusement of the campers, who had grown accustomed to these antics from the archery coach.  
  
“Oliver!  Oliver, put me down!” Felicity demanded, but Oliver just swung her down into his arms and stepped off the pier with her, an icy blast of lake water shocking both their systems.  
  
Barry watched in helpless amusement.  Normally he would protest, but there were several things stopping him: First, that he was pretty sure he couldn’t stop Oliver Queen from doing _anything_ he wanted to do.  Second, he knew that Oliver would never let Felicity or any of the kids get hurt.  And finally, even Oliver reminded the campers that just because he indulged in a little rough house, didn’t mean _they_ were allowed to, so Barry wasn’t worried about him being too much of a bad influence.  
  
Barry liked Felicity Smoak.  A lot.  But he also knew his little crush paled in comparison to Oliver’s infatuation.  Oliver was totally enamored by her, and Barry knew better than to get in the way of something like that.    
  
Within seconds, Oliver and Felicity emerged from the water, Felicity gasping indignantly and splashing Oliver for his insolence, and Barry shook his head, scanning the rest of the group to make sure all was well.  
  
“Oliver Queen I hope you drown!” Felicity bellowed, and Oliver just chuckled, unabashedly squirting water at her as the kids laughed.  
  



	5. The Piggyback Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has an accident and gets a little help from the last person she would have picked.

The campers were two thirds of the way into their summer when Felicity got hurt.

It was out on the hiking trail that it happened.  It was a particularly hot and muggy afternoon, the air thick with humidity, and Felicity had broken into a sweat leading her campers onto a hiking trail.  She was tugging at her shirt, desperate for that faint breeze to cool her body and taking a swig from her bottle of water when she and the kids reached Grell Rock, a shallow waterfall which coursed over a smooth terrain of rocks, leading to the riverbed below.  Someone ages ago had tied a rope to a branch for campers to swing from, but it had frayed and rotted until it became too dangerous to use, and when the rope had been banned, the camp had gone ahead and banned the practice of sliding down the rocks to the water below.

Not that that made it any less tempting to throw the rules by the wayside and take a dip, especially on a day as miserably hot as this one.

Then again, Felicity thought, looking at the slippery rocks as they carefully crossed the river, and down into the coursing waters at the bottom, maybe it _was_ easy to resist temptation.  After all, there was a reason for the rules….

And then disaster struck.  Kyle and Matt, two of her campers with a bad tendency for rough-housing, were horsing around when Kyle lost his balance and tripped off the log-bridge, tumbling down the rocks and into the river, yelling in surprise as he went.

Without hesitating, Felicity skidded down the rocks, frantically diving in after Kyle, slipping painfully on one of the rocks as she went.  Kicking through  the pain, she spotted Kyle bobbing, too panicked, apparently, to remember that he knew how to swim.  Grunting as her ankle screamed in protest, she managed to swim up behind Kyle and grab him around his chest, telling him to calm down and help her, their combined efforts bringing them to shore, where the rest of the group was gathering, some already lost in panic, others anxious to help.

A few hands grabbed at Kyle, dragging them further through the mud onto the river bank, and Felicity was relieved to see the water spill out of Kyle’s mouth as he rolled over onto the grass, coughing and sputtering and gasping for air.

“Kyle,” she panted from all fours, her hand clapping Kyle on the back, “are you okay?  Can you breathe?”

“Y–yeah,” Kyle croaked, vomiting a little water onto the hot dirt before wiping his chin.  “I’m okay, I’m s–sorry.”  He was shaking, clearly having had a good fright.

“I’m so sorry, Kyle!  I didn’t mean to!” Matt was babbling, face pale with distress.

“Are you hurt?” Felicity asked, trying to stay focused in spite of all the nervous chatter.

“No.  I’m _really_ sorry, Felicity."  He genuinely looked it, too, part of him obviously wondering whether he were in trouble.

“It’s okay,” Felicity exhaled in relief, dropping her head and backing off.  “Crud,” she wheezed, the pain sinking in as her concern ebbed.  She rolled over onto her back and clutched her leg to her chest.  “Aurgh,” she groaned through gritted teeth.

“Felicity, are you okay?” another camper, Tiffany, asked in an anxious voice while Kyle’s friends helped him sit up.

Felicity was very decidedly not okay.  She’d hurt her ankle badly sliding down the rocks after Kyle, and it had hurt like hell swimming after him.

“I’m fine,” she lied through her teeth, voice tight.  “I just…I twisted my ankle.  I’m not gonna be able to get back to camp like this.  Tiffany…Matt…” she picked the most responsible child and the one most eager to be useful, “I want you to go back to camp and get help.  Can you make it back okay just the two of you?”

“We’re on it!” Tiffany said immediately, rising and brushing away the dirt on her knees while Matt bounced up readily.

“Be careful, and stay together.”

It was, perhaps, fate, that the first person Matt and Tiffany ran into—literally—was Oliver Queen, carrying the archery equipment back to the equipment shed.

“Oof!” he grunted when Matt smacked directly into him in his haste, the arrows and bows tumbling to the grass.  “Woah, speedy,” he said, grabbing Matt’s shoulder to steady him.  “Where ya goin’?  Shouldn’t you guys be with your group?”

“Kyle drowned and Felicity’s been wounded trying to rescue him!” Matt spilled in a dramatic rush, the details getting a little muddied in his sense of urgency.

“Woah, slow down.  What?” Oliver asked, face growing serious.

“It’s Kyle and Felicity,” Tiffany explained.  “Kyle fell at Grell Rock and Felicity got hurt getting him out.”

“Okay,” Oliver said, rising to the occasion.  “Tiffany? Matt?  Do you know where the med cabin is?  It’s by the head cabin with a big red cross over the door.  Ask for John Diggle and tell him what happened.  You guys said they’re at Grell Rock?”

They nodded.

“Okay, I’m going to head that way now.  You guys find John.  Tell him I’m going to bring Felicity in, and then take it easy.  Drink some water.  That’s a long hike, and it’s hot,” he added, eyeing their reddened faces and necks in concern.

They nodded and bolted in the direction of the med cabin, and Oliver turned to start jogging the opposite direction down the hiking trail.

When he reached Felicity, she looked like something the cat dragged in.  Every inch of her was sopping, dripping wet, and half of her was covered in mud.  Her mascara had smudged unattractively around her eyes, her face pale from trauma and the pain of her fast-swelling ankle, which had turned a sickly shade of purple-blue in the amount of time it had taken Oliver to make his way down the hiking trail to Felicity and the campers.

Felicity had propped herself up in front of a tree, Kyle resting a few feet away, and she had the hikers playing an game called Zip Zap Zop when she saw Oliver, her shoulders slumped in relief.  “Of course it would be you,” she joked weakly.  He was a sight for sore eyes, even if she couldn’t possibly be more embarrassed about it.  _Ugh, why does he have to look so good?_ she moaned silently.  His shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to him, his face flushed from jogging almost a mile down the hiking trail.  And those eyes, those blasted eyes of his were boring into hers in concern.  _He looks like sex on a stick and I'm the swamp thing._ Except she knew she wasn't supposed to care if she looked like crap in front of him.  She was _supposed_ to be getting over her pointless little crush.

Oliver chuckled, crouching down next to her while Felicity told the kids to keep playing—she was fine.  “Always happy to see you, too, beautiful,” Oliver teased her lightly, still meeting her eyes.  He reached out and pushed some of her wet hair out of her face.  Her heart stammered in response to his touch and she swallowed tightly.  “They said you hurt your ankle.  Anything else hurt?”

“Besides looking at you?” Felicity said aloud by mistake, blushing furiously when the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Besides that.”

“Just my ankle.”

“Okay.  I’m gonna take a look, and I’m gonna take your shoe off.  It’s gonna suck.”  His eyes were still locked with hers, apparently awaiting permission.

She nodded, her stomach tightening in apprehension.

Oliver dropped his gaze, to her ankle and she sucked in a breath when he began gingerly tugging on her shoelaces.  “Ow,” she winced, unable to hold it back as tears welled in her eyes.

He gave her an apologetic look.  “I know.  Sorry.  Almost there.”  He continued loosening the laces, and Felicity’s hands balled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms.  “Okay, big deep breath,” Oliver instructed.  “And…exhale,” he told her.

As she breathed out, he lifted her shoe off as delicately as he could, passing it off to Kyle, who had been hovering, looking like he wanted to help.  Then Oliver peeled off her wet sock with care and shoved it into his pocket.  He looked at her with a small smile.  “Better?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.  Her ankle was throbbing and she felt like crying, and she miserably wished that it didn’t have to be Oliver Queen of all people to be the one to see her so vulnerable.  But yeah.  She felt a little better without her shoes cutting off the circulation to her now-grapefruit-sized ankle.

“Okay, Felicity,” Oliver said, turning his back to her, “climb on.”

“What?” she asked blankly.  Then, realizing his intention, “Don’t be ridiculous, Oliver.”

 _“You_ don’t be ridiculous.  You can’t possibly walk back to camp.”

“It’s almost a mile!” she protested.

“Exactly.  We’d better get started now.”  He grinned at her from over his shoulder.

Eventually, she had no choice but to give in, letting Oliver lifted her onto his back, and wrapping her arms around his strong shoulders.  She dropped her forehead wearily against the back of his head, breathing in the smell of his sweat-mingled scent.

 _His sweat-mingled scent?_ Felicity asked herself as Oliver steadily carried her in the direction of camp, the kids following along side them.  _Oh yeah…I’m delirious from the pain.  Must…resist…urge…to babble._ “Thanks for letting me ride you.  I mean your back.  I mean…oh damn it,” she sighed.

Oliver chuckled, even as his spine tingled from her breath on his neck and her unintentionally suggestive words.  “Don’t let the kids hear you swear.”

“My ankle looks like a cantaloupe.  I’ll swear all I want.”

“It doesn’t look like a cantaloupe.  More like…a blueberry.”

“A big blueberry,” Felicity snorted.

“An adorable big blueberry.”

She scoffed, trying to ignore the way her heart hammered when his grip on her thighs tautened slightly, and he shifted her weight upward again.  She tightened her arms around his neck, stomach flipping.

Ultimately, they made it back to camp, Oliver and Felicity sending all of the kids into the mess hall with lunch, after which Oliver took Felicity straight to the med bay, where John Diggle was expecting them.  Oliver set Felicity down on the med table, and Diggle handed her a towel to wrap around her shoulders and began icing down her ankle immediately.

“Thanks,” Diggle said.  “I’ll take it from here.  You should get back to wherever you have to be.”

Eyes still on Felicity, Oliver stayed put.  “Nah, I’m good.  Done for the day.”  He ignored the nagging thought of archery equipment left in the dirt on its own.  He could deal with that later.  “Need any help?”

Diggle eyed Oliver with a knowing smile.  They’d met once or twice over the summers, mostly to patch up welts or minor stab wounds from kids who failed to follow Oliver’s instructions about safety.  “Right.  Why don’t you grab a couple of bottles of water from the fridge over there.  One for both of you.”

Oliver insisted on staying by Felicity’s side while Diggle helped her get the swelling down, eventually wrapping her ankle for support and giving her some crutches.

“I’m fine, Oliver, honestly,” Felicity said, and Oliver was busy musing about the fact that she was the only person he knew who called him ‘Oliver’ instead of ‘Ollie.’  Normally he wouldn’t like that, but— “Oliver.  Really.  Crutches, see?  No need to hover.”

He shook himself.  “Right…I know.  I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

Felicity sighed, smiling at him in a way that was just a little different from the way she usually looked at him.  She rested one of her crutches against the wall of the med building, shifting her weight onto the one and tugging Oliver towards her.  She boldly planted a kiss on his cheek before pulling back.  “I’m good.  Thank you.  I’ll see you at dinner later.  Okay?”

“I…okay,” Oliver said, stunned, but a slow grin spreading across his face and making Felicity blush.

“Right.  Bye,” Felicity said, grabbing the other crutch and hobbling off in the direction of her cabin, trying not to feel Oliver’s eyes following her all the way or the heat creeping up the back of her neck that had nothing to do with the weather.


	6. The Brushing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver gains a better understanding of Felicity's wariness of him.

“Dude, what?” Sara asked irritably, rubbing her side where Tommy had just elbowed her.

“Check it out,” he smirked, nodding his head at something behind her.  Sara turned to see Oliver and Felicity arriving to the bonfire.  Together.

Sara smirked as well, dropping her bag down next to their usual bench.  “Well that’s something you don’t see every day.”

Felicity was smiling when Oliver dropped her bag next to Sara’s, then he laid down her crutches and turned to help her sit down.  “Oliver,” she said, for probably the millionth time.  “You can stop.  I have a twisted ankle.  I’m not paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Okay,” Oliver said, folding his arms and pressing his lips together to prevent a smile.  “Go ahead.  Have a seat.”

Felicity hesitated, looking at the log, low to the ground.  She hopped slightly on her good foot, and then, “…God, fine.  I could use a hand.”

Oliver chuckled, sitting down first, and then letting her put her weight on his shoulder so she could lower herself.  Oliver steadied her with a hand on her lower back, letting it trail lingeringly away once she was settled.

Felicity suppressed a shiver.

Oliver had opened his mouth to say something when Barry showed up.

“Felicity!  Hey!  I heard you had an adventure this week.  Glad you still made it out here.  How’s the,” he stammered a little in response to the brightness of her smile, “How’s the ankle?” he smiled back at her, wearing that faintly nervous expression he always had around her.

“It was no big deal.  And I’m doing a lot better.  Swelling’s mostly gone down, and it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad anymore.”

“Glad to hear it.  Well,” he glanced at Oliver for a split second.  “I’m just gonna, um, go get a seat, I guess.  Let me know if you need help with anything this week.”

“I will.  Thanks, Barry,” Felicity said genuinely.

Oliver tried not to scowl.  She was practically beaming.

“Well…Later,” Barry said, backing up slowly before turning and heading for another bench.

“What’s the matter with you?” Felicity asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Ollie,” Tommy asked, turning from his place on the dirt in front of Sara and not bothering to mask the amused twinkle in his eyes.  _“What’s the matter?”_

“Who me?” Oliver asked, schooling his expression.  “Not a thing.  Pass the marshmallows.”

The night wore on and Oliver watched Felicity’s face glowing in the firelight, her expression attentive as someone picked up the previous week’s ghost story where they’d all left off.  He studied the nervous way she worried her lip, the little gasps and jumps when something scared her.

 _God I am so in over my head with her_ , Oliver thought tiredly to himself, turning his attention away to make sure she didn’t catch him staring.  He wrapped his fingers in her ponytail and let the curls slide between his fingers before dropping his hand next to hers on the bench.  He knew she’d noticed.  He could hear the small breath she sucked in, sense the sudden tensing in her shoulders, and the faintest twitch of her hand when his brushed close to hers.

His stomach plummeted in disappointment when she pulled her hand away and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

Oliver almost dropped his head in defeat.  He glanced across the flames at Barry, who was sitting with his friends Caitlin and Cisco, and wondered if maybe Felicity really liked him better.  The thought was demoralizing to say the least.  Why did he have to pick the one girl in the whole camp who refused to like him back?

Felicity shifted subtly.  She’d panicked.  She knew that.  But she was at war with herself.  She no longer knew how to deal with Oliver, and resisting his advances was becoming more difficult.  In the last few days since she’d been hurt, a seed of doubt had been planted in Felicity.  When Oliver came to her rescue, she’d seen a side to him she wasn’t really used to.  She knew flirty, cocky Oliver, the one who never missed an opportunity to tease her, to make her blush.  But caring, worried Oliver?  The kind of Oliver who carried her almost a mile because she’d been hurt?  Or insisted on helping carry her bag to Bonfire night?  She wasn’t sure what to do with that one.

She couldn’t stick him safely in a box labeled “womanizer” anymore and it was throwing her for a loop.  So when she’d felt his little finger start to curl around hers, testing the waters to hold her hand, yeah.  She’d panicked and pulled her hand away because she just wasn’t prepared to cope with that yet.

Even Tommy and Sara could sense the mutual tension at the end of the night when Oliver helped Felicity stand to leave.

“Well,” Tommy said, trying and failing not to be completely obvious.  “Sara and I are gonna…” he cleared his throat.  “Go.  That way,” he added, pointing.

Sara rolled her eyes as she walked off with him.  “Smooth, Merlyn.”

Felicity chuckled as she watched them go, still feeling her face flush as Oliver passed her her crutches.  She raised an eyebrow, noticing that he wasn’t laughing along.  “Oliver?” she asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” he asked tightly, giving her a carefully blank expression.  “What?”

Her brow cinched slightly.  “Um, nothing.  I guess I’ll…I’ll see you later.”

Oliver sighed.  “Hey,” he said more gently.  “I’ll walk you back.  Sorry.”

But it was a silent walk, and one fraught with tension.   Felicity wasn’t sure what was wrong with Oliver.  She was also getting worried that she didn’t really want to know.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked anyway.

Oliver just shrugged with forced nonchalance. Something was definitely up, Felicity decided, and she had a strong presentiment that it had something to do with pulling her hand away earlier.

When she kept looking at him expectantly, Oliver picked one of the hundred questions rolling around in his head regarding her and ran with it.  “You and Barry…are you guys…d’you…is that a thing?”  

Felicity looked surprised.  “What?  No!  I mean, not that I don’t like Barry,” she said hurriedly, “but…I mean no.  He’s never…it’s not really…it’s not really on the table.”

Oliver’s lips pressed into a thin line.  He had caught the subtle implication there: that if it were on the table, she’d be considering it.

“Really?” she asked irritably.

“What?”

“Are you…are you seriously stewing over that?”

“Well—”

“Because you’re aware that since I’ve been working here I’ve seen eight girls cry over you, right?  You flirt with _everyone_.  So if you’re seriously annoyed because I kind of like Barry, which I have _every right_ to, then you can go screw yourself.”

“I didn’t say you can’t like somebody else.”

“Because we’re not a thing, Oliver.  You and me, I mean.”  She stopped, regretting the words as soon as they slipped out of her mouth because he looked like he’d been slapped in the face, and she also wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t want them to be a thing.  “I just mean that if we were…but we’re not.  So I’m allowed to like someone.  Who’s not you.  And you can’t blame me for being cautious.  Seriously, eight girls, Oliver,” she emphasized.

Oliver glared and started walking again, wondering when they’d stopped moving toward the cabins.  “And I suppose that’s my fault.”

“Well it’s not _not_ your fault.”

“Right,” he gritted.

“I’m just saying I’m not looking for a reason to cry, Oliver,” she said.

Oliver stopped in his tracks and looked at her, understanding finally dawning on his face.  For one thing, it was nice to finally be sure she wasn’t completely oblivious, however hard she tried to act like she was.  And now he finally got it.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like him.  She was scared.  Which wasn’t exactly great news but that… “That I can work with.”

She looked confused.  _“What?”_ she deadpanned.

“Well you know the thing about your fears, Felicity,” he smirked, stepping a little closer to her.  “The best thing to do is face them head on.”

If she weren’t in crutches, she would have backed up a step.  As it was she drew back slightly, but it didn’t really put sufficient distance between them.  She shook her head, “Look, I’m just saying, I look at you, and I see a thousand-and-one ways to get hurt.  So you’ll forgive me,” she said breathlessly, “if I don’t throw myself at you because you give me a little attention.”

He looked at her incredulously.  “A little att—are you serious?” he demanded.  “You seriously think I’m just messing with you?”

“I don’t know, Oliver!  You tell me!”

“You’re impossible, you know that?  What do you want me to do?  Ignore you?”

“No!”

“Then what?  What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know!  Would you just—”

Oliver cut her off, covering her mouth with his.  She stumbled slightly into him, losing her balance on the crutches, and he caught her around the waist.  She pulled back.

“You can’t just do that.”

“Do what?  This?”  He leaned forward and kissed her again, tugging on her lower lip and leaning into her.  She sucked in a breath, grabbing his shirt for balance as she drew back again.

“Yes.”

“Stop kissing me back then.”

“I—” but he cut her off again, this time cupping the back of her neck, plying her lips apart, earning a soft whimper in the back of her throat.  His lips felt warm, soft, intense.  Her own responded inquisitively, with trepidation.  Her stomach tautened anxiously, heat pooling in her belly as Oliver’s body stepped right into her space, his fingers caressing the back of her neck and tightening in her shirt, just above the hem of her jeans, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of her lower back.  She suddenly knew why eight girls would cry over this.  Being kissed by Oliver Queen and then knowing it was never going to happen again…that was definitely something to cry over.

She tore away, trying to catch her breath, trying stop everything from spinning, her mouth open as she panted, their lips still grazing against each other as she desperately resisted their magnetic pull.

“I need to…I need to get back to my cabin.  It’s…” she blinked several times, wishing he would let go of the back of her neck so she could collect her thoughts.  “It’s after curfew.”

“Whatever you say.”  He didn’t move.

“Oliver.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna, um, need you to…to not,” she swallowed, “not be holding me.  So I can walk.”

“Uh huh.”  He smirked, intentionally drawing it out as long as possible.  She realized her eyes were closed and opened them to find him looking at her.  His gaze flickered down to her lips and then back up.

“Oliver.”

“Yeah?”

_“Now.”_

“All right, all right,” he sighed, backing away and leaving her to gasp at the sudden loss of his touch.  She clutched awkwardly at her crutches, wobbling a little.  She couldn’t meet his eyes.  “Felicity?” he said after a little while.

“No!  I mean yes.  I mean what?”  She shook herself.

“You were going to walk back to your cabin.  It’s that way,” he pointed, and oh, his face was insufferably smug, and she wanted to scream because damn she wanted him to kiss her again.

“Right,” she breathed, finally turning and beginning to head toward the cabin again.

Oliver slung her bag over his shoulder once more and sauntered arrogantly after her, having achieved a new sense of understanding about their situation.  They reached her cabin and he quietly held open the screen door for her, cautiously aware that a dozen young girls were fast asleep on the other side.

He offered her the backpack, and when she tried to take it, he held on tight, leaning forward to place a softer, lighter kiss on her lips.  “Felicity,” he whispered, nudging her nose with his, “I’m not going to make you cry.  Not if I can help it.”  He let go of the bag, letting her take it, and turned to walk off into the night, slowly swallowed up in darkness lit only by the soft glow of fireflies.

Felicity released a shaky breath, the hum of noisy cicadas and frogs buzzing in her ears.  “Yep, I’m in trouble.  Mmhmm.”


	7. The Watch Sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Oliver take shelter from a storm, which is convenient for Oliver, since she's been hiding from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super-lazy today and didn't proofread. I'd be sorry, but I'm too lazy for that, either.

_Okay, don’t panic, Felicity.  Breathe.  No need to freak out._

But as Oliver loomed into sight, pulling on the string of a bow, her heart went into overdrive and the state she went into could easily and accurately be described as panic.  And of course, she’d stopped carting Erica around weeks ago, so she no longer had a kid in her arms to hide behind—a fact she was greatly lamenting at the moment.

He released the arrow, which of course hit the center of the target (she didn’t even bother to look), and then turned to face her and the approaching group, grinning when he saw them.  Felicity turned red from her roots to her toes and gravely considered turning back and running for the hills.

But Oliver never gave her the chance.  High-fiving a few of the kids as they passed him on their way to the equipment, he walked right up to Felicity, stepping directly into her space and grinning down at her.  “Hey,” he said.

Felicity swallowed nervously, her face burning as she leaned on her crutches to keep from crumpling into a heap of goo.  “Hi.”

“Did you have fun avoiding me this weekend?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“You saw me on Sunday, then literally turned around and ran off in the opposite direction.”

“I forgot something in my cabin.”

“Uh huh.”

“I did.”

“So you weren’t avoiding me.”

“No.”

He smirked.  “Good.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a few of the kids let out small screams in surprise.  Felicity jumped, and Oliver glanced up.  “Yeah, we should get started,” he said.  “Something tells me things might get cut short today if that doesn’t blow over us.”

Felicity followed his gaze and saw a massive, ominous-looking cloud looming toward them, lighting illuminating it, quickly followed by another crack of thunder.  “Yeeaaah,” she said slowly.  She turned back to him, and he was still standing too close.  “You should go,” she said.  “And…teach.  Archery.”

Oliver was looking at her in a manner that was very reminiscent of the moment right before he had kissed her on Friday, so she hobbled back a step with her crutches.

“Seriously.  Rain.  Kids.  Teach.  Go now.”

Oliver repressed a laugh and did as she instructed, leaving Felicity to deal with the butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach.  Oliver started working with the kids, and she tried not to openly stare at him, or relive the way his mouth had felt against hers—something she had been unable to stop doing all weekend long.

But as she replayed the exact feeling, taste, and sensation of Oliver molding his lips to hers for the twentieth time that half hour, the storm was beginning to pick up, the air crackling with electricity and the wind frantically gaining momentum.

Her hair was whipping violently in her face when the sky started to spit a few drops of rain at them.

“Oliver,” she called over the wind, “I think we need to get the kids inside.  This looks like it’s going to get nasty.”

Oliver looked up and met her eyes, nodding grimly in agreement.  “You guys go ahead,” he said.  “I need to collect the equipment.”

“I’m not leaving you out in this mess,” Felicity argued.

“It’ll only take a minute.”

She was going to tell him not to be stupid, but then she remembered overhearing some of the other counselors talking about Oliver getting told off for leaving the archery equipment lying around in the middle of the grass—the same day he’d gone to help her when she’d been hurt.  Sighing in frustration, she shouted instructions to the campers.  “I want everyone to head to the mess hall.  Wait for instructions from one of the camp leaders.  Oliver and I are going to stay and collect the equipment.”

Oliver looked like he had words about this, but she was already herding the campers away, who were making a quick run through the mud to get out of the rain.

“How exactly are you going to help?” Oliver said irritably so the kids couldn’t hear, obviously meaning her crutches.

She rolled her eyes.  “Like I can’t carry a backpack.  _Move_ , drama queen.”

Shaking his head, Oliver started collecting bows and arrows, throwing the bows into a large army surplus bag, which Felicity carefully slung over her shoulder while Oliver dashed across the field to collect arrows that had been fired already.  By the time they had everything collected, the rain was lashing at their faces more forcefully, and a flash of lightening split the sky with a sharp crack.

As they made their way down the hill toward the center of camp, Felicity’s crutches quickly becoming a nuisance it the increasingly muddy earth.  She could feel Oliver hovering close to her in concern.

She hesitated, squinting through the rain.  “Oliver…I think we should head to the cabins instead.  They’re closer.”

Oliver, who had been wanting to suggest this as well, nodded.  “Yeah, are you okay?  Are you sure you can carry all that?”

“I’m fine.”

He rolled his eyes, obviously not believing her, but the rain was getting heavier, and with a lurch in his stomach he realized he could hear the vague sound of the tornado watch siren blaring far in the distance, which meant—

“Conditions are right for a tornado.”

Oliver nodded grimly, just as they reached one of the cabins and he quickly pulled the door open for her, helping her inside.  It slammed shut and he latched it—which wasn’t much in the way of shelter, but better than nothing.  At least the cabins didn’t have a lot of windows.

“I hope—”

“The kids made it back fine,” Oliver assured her.  “They had a good head start.  They’re probably having popcorn and m&ms in the mess hall as we speak.”  He watched her lean one of her crutches against the wall and drop the archery equipment as gingerly as she could before leaning against one of the bunk beds to catch her breath.  The walk had taken a bit out of her.

“I hate crutches,” she grumbled, obviously not wanting to think about the alternatives regarding the kids.  “They suck.  Why couldn’t I have sprained my wrist?”

Oliver snorted.  “How much longer are you supposed to be on them?” he asked as he vanished to the bathroom in search of some towels they could borrow.  They were both drenched, their shoes squeaking on the creaky hardwood floors, and Felicity looked cold now that they were inside.

“John—the guy in the med bay—he said it would be 6 to 8 weeks.”

“Ouch,” Oliver grimaced sympathetically, appearing with a couple of striped towels.

“Yeah, He said it was like, a grade II sprain or something like that.  I guess it probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been trying to swim with it.  I tore some ligaments or something like that.”  She sighed, but her expression said clearly that she didn’t regret kicking through the pain.

He smiled a little, liking that she wouldn’t let a little thing like a busted up ankle stop her from getting to someone who needed her help.  He rubbed his hair dry with one of the towels before walking over to her, the corner of his mouth tugging upward slightly as he reached behind her and squeezed her hair dry, watching her lips part in surprise.  He met her eyes, smirking.  “So you wanna talk about why you _weren’t_ avoiding me this weekend?”  There was a touch of sarcastic emphasis in his voice.

“I…not…not really," she evaded.

“Fair enough,” he said, tugging her forward slightly now to encourage her to sit down on one of the beds before wrapping the towel around her shoulders.  The wind howled in their ears outside as Oliver took a seat on the floor, leaning against the bedpost and watching her lean against the opposite side.  “Except, y’know, you avoiding me makes it really difficult to repeat Friday night.  Just saying.”

Felicity bit her lip, her eyes flickering to his mouth and her face coloring.

“And I don’t know about you, but personally, I would really enjoy repeating Friday night.  Multiple times if possible.”

His cocky smirk was unbearable, and she groaned, pulling one knee into her chest and stretching her bad leg out on the bed while she dropped her head back to avoid eye contact with him.

“Is that ‘ugggggh’ an agreeable one or an ‘I still hate you,’ one?”

“It’s an ‘I can’t believe I’m trapped in here with you because of a tornado,’ one.  Even mother nature is on your side,” she lifted her head to level him with an accusing glare.

He looked downright arrogant.  “I mean, I didn’t plan this, but it really works much better than anything I could have come up with.”

“What exactly do you want from me, Oliver?  Summer’s over in a couple of weeks.  We’ll be going home.”

“True.  But I happen to be extremely good at phone sex.”

_“Oliver!”_

He laughed, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I liked kissing you.  I’d like to do it again.”  He caught her eye and her stomach flipped.  “And…I don’t know.  I happen to know that you’re looking at MIT—Sara told me,” he added, seeing her mouth fall open indignantly.  “Which happens to be in the same town as a certain other university that I happen to be attending—”

“I’m sorry, explain to me how you got into Harvard?” Felicity demanded disbelievingly.

“I think I’m offended.”

“And I’m totally justified,” she said unapologetically.

He chuckled.  “Fair point.  My dad may have pulled some strings.  And given me a very long, very grumpy talk about _responsibility_ and l _iving up to the family name_ and being _expected to take over the business one day_ blah blah blah,” he mimicked his father, moving his hand like a mouth that wouldn’t shut up.  “Trust me, I’m well aware that I’m a sucky rich kid who doesn’t deserve to be going there.  If I had it my way, Tommy and I would be taking a year off to road trip across the country.”

Felicity just shook her head.  She shouldn’t feel sorry for him.  People would kill to go to Harvard, and here he was, being _shipped off_ there by Daddy.  It was almost insulting.  But she could also see the tension in his shoulders.  She had a feeling a lot of Oliver’s wildness had to do with resisting all the expectations placed on him.  _Some are born to greatness,_ she thought warily, _whether they like it or not._

“But my point is,” Oliver continued, shaking off the sudden seriousness of the conversation.  “There’s holidays and vacations and then when you get into MIT—”

“If.”

“— _when,”_ he rolled his eyes, “you get into MIT, then it will just so happen that we are living in the same town and—”

“My God you’re serious,” Felicity said suddenly, looking at him in a new light.  “Like…you’ve actually thought about this.”

He gave her a look that said ‘Duh,’ but she ignored him.

“I mean…seriously, you’ve thought about this.  And… _me,”_ she said, her face going red.

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed all of a sudden.  “I told you.  I like you.

“Well, yeah, but…I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t think…I mean it’s _you_ and—sorry that sounds mean—but…just…I didn’t think you really did relationships.”

“I don’t.  But I like you.”

She stared.

“So I would…y’know… _try_.  I like new things.  And you’re…” he swallowed.  Felicity watched, stunned, as his face grew pink and he struggled.  “Different,” he finished finally.

Felicity stared at him, shocked.  “I…wow.  Okay.”  She paused.  “Wow.”

Oliver, for the one and only time in all the time she’d known him, looked downright vulnerable.  Her mind reeled.  She’d come to terms with the idea that he liked her, but he was talking about genuinely wanting to be with her, and not just until the end of summer, which she had always assumed was the best case scenario with him—not to mention a surefire way to guarantee a broken heart just in time for the leaves to start changing colors.  This was…unexpected.

“Say something.  I’m begging you.”

She snapped back to reality and scrutinized him.  Then, decidedly, she crawled forward to the other end of the bed, where he was still sitting on the floor, leaned down on her elbows, dipped her head down, and kissed him.  Soft, sweet, and chaste, it felt amazing to do.  And even better because of the completely smitten expression on his face when she pulled away and sat back down, letting her ankle hang off the side of the bed.  “Does that help?”

He grinned, “I’m not sure.  You should probably do it again just to make sure I’m totally clear on the concept.  Wouldn’t want there to be any miscommunications,” he said with a glint in his eye, sitting up and reaching for her, tugging her closer so he could kiss her again, their mouths curving together with the promise of something perfect in its very simplicity: _trying._

Outside, the storm howled, though it never became an actual tornado, instead bringing in a cool front, a welcome relief to the stifling heat the camp had endured all summer long.


End file.
